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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25410046">Adonis</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadpan9618/pseuds/Deadpan9618'>Deadpan9618</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Of Springstars And Sunflowers [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AH YES, Abusive Relationships, Anal Sex, Angst, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Flashbacks, Gang Rape, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt No Comfort, Lucifer is an asshole, M/M, Nonbinary Crowley (Good Omens), Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Abuse, Smut, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, my favourite tag, not taking any chances with this one folx, read the fucking tags</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:49:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,567</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25410046</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadpan9618/pseuds/Deadpan9618</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley struggles with opening up about his problems, having kept them secret for thousands of years. However, when an incident occurs during sex, Aziraphale realises there may be more to Crowley's past that meets the eye.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley/Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Of Springstars And Sunflowers [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802824</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>103</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Adonis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay, so, read the fucking tags. this is a harrowing one. Even more harrowing than last time, in my opinion, and the time before that. I can't write fluff and I shouldn't be trusted with a computer. READ THE TAGS. (also, this is the longest fic i've ever written (i think) so yay me, thank you for reading)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley has always hated having to ask for things.</p>
<p>His stubbornness transcended the bounds of anything ever seen in the world, even before the world existed. His very blood was filled with the urge to keep in his pain, to never ask for help, to keep himself safe.</p>
<p>There were only a few people in the universe who Crowley had ever asked for help. Many of them were not even aware that Crowley was in his current state, or even aware that he was alive at all, and Crowley would fight to keep it that way. What was the use in pretending that things would ever go back to the way they were Before? What was the use in endangering people that he had once loved?</p>
<p>The only person he asked for help these days was a particularly fussy angel living in Soho, in a bookshop that didn’t actually sell many books. Money was never an issue for demons and angels, and the angel in question was very attached to his collection, and some (including Crowley) might say he was too attached.</p>
<p>Crowley also happened to have been head-over heels in love with him for 6000 years.</p>
<p>The thing was, Crowley trusted Aziraphale. He always had. An angel who disobeyed direct orders, who lied to God, who drank and ate and hoarded and who spent time with a demon, a filthy, unforgivable, tainted demon of all people, and who was still an angel despite all of this, was something truly… special.</p>
<p>And so Crowley trusted him, from the moment they sat together, waiting for Eve’s screams of pain to die down and turn to joy, pure, simple joy, at the life she had just brought into the world, the mother she had become.</p>
<p>As Aziraphale cooed over the baby, his anxiety at hurting the fragile human obvious on his face, Crowley realised that perhaps, hope remained for him yet. For the both of them.</p>
<p>Crowley’s infatuation had grown as the world did, sometimes bordering on obsession. Anyone would go slightly mad if the only touches they could share with their love were accidental brushes of elbows, handshakes, friendly kisses when it was still the fashion in the parts of the world the two resided in at the time. Never able to feel, to love Aziraphale as Crowley knew he could, to have to be content with playing back the sweet memories of those touches over and over in his mind…</p>
<p>Maybe it was an obsession. Crowley didn’t care. Whatever he felt for the angel had to stay in his own head. Crowley couldn’t even say they were friends, even after 5000 years. They were associates. Acquaintances at best, and it was more than Crowley ever hoped for with Aziraphale.</p>
<p>But Crowley knew they were really something more. Had been since Paris, where Aziraphale’s eyes couldn’t hide how attractive he found Crowley with that hairstyle, when Crowley’s indifferent demeanor couldn’t hide how distracted he was by the shape of Aziraphale’s legs in those tights. Had been since 1942, when Aziraphale couldn’t hide his affection as he sat in Crowley’s bentley, priceless books of prophecy in his shaky grasp, when Crowley couldn’t hide his love, for his silly, trusting, backstabbed angel. Had been since 1969, when Aziraphale handed Crowley a tartan thermos with trembling hands, and when Crowley realised just how much Aziraphale loved him.</p>
<p>But they had to stay apart. Aziraphale had heaven breathing down his back and the threat of falling looming over his head (and if Aziraphale fell because of Crowley, felt the same searing pain of his wings being burned and torn to pieces by the flame, he would never forgive himself, and he was fairly sure Aziraphale wouldn’t either.) And Crowley? </p>
<p>Crowley had everything to lose. His life, his autonomy, his everything. Crowley lived his life as a rebel knowing that every step he took could be one step to many, that eventually,he would get sick of it.</p>
<p>Lucifer would get sick of it.</p>
<p>The King of Hell claimed Crowley’s nature was his appeal, the fact that he didn’t submit, didn’t answer to anyone. But how long till Crowley pushed Lucifer too far, how long until he realised that that he’d rather have Crowley as his obedient little pet, a pretty thing he could tote around without having to worry about Crowley being a smartarse, scowling at everyone who looked at him, wriggling away when they touched him instead of sitting still and letting them have their way. How long until Satan realised that he should be a doll, a puppet, an object that exists solely for Hells amusement and pleasure?</p>
<p>It was Crowley’s worst fear, though he knew it would happen someday, and he also knew that it was what was meant to happen to him. It was the only way he couldn’t disappoint anyone, seeing as laying back and taking it was the only thing he was really good at.</p>
<p>But now Crowley didn’t even work for Hell anymore. He’d successfully turned Lucifer’s own son against him, ruined the Great Plan and Hell’s plans for revenge, all in the span of a single day. Crowley was lucky Satan had been too angry with his rebellious offspring to notice Crowley standing there, an angel's hand in his. And after that, it all came out, their love, their fear, and then he was in Aziraphale’s body and Aziraphale was in his and Crowley made him promise, promise from the bottom of his heart, that if anything happened, if they tried to torture him or do anything to him, Aziraphale would use the full force of his angelic power to get out. Crowley hoped to somebody that wouldn’t happen, especially because Crowley doubted the force of a Principality could take out a creature who was both a former Seraph and a demon whose power nearly equalled God Herself, even if said being was taken by surprise. But it was their only hope of surviving. And, miraculously, the trials went by without incident. <br/>Well, there was one incident, but that is a different story for a different day.</p>
<p>It had been half a year since the Apocalypse that wasn’t when our current story begins. Humanity was doing fine, though there were some worrying reports of a new virus that made Crowley think Pestilence was trying to exact revenge on the two of them, but Crowley tried to put that, as well as all the other really shitty things going on in the world, out of his mind. Right now, Crowley was focusing entirely on his angel, who was currently sitting on the tube, fingers stuck in his ears.</p>
<p>“Honestly, I don’t get why these have to be so loud, Crowley!” Aziraphale yelled over the din of the train squealing along the tracks. “I suppose it was your fault, seeing as you practically invented these awful contraptions!”</p>
<p>“I was only responsible for the invention of the steam engine, Aziraphale,” Crowley yelled back. Aziraphale was right, the noise really was annoying. Fucking piccadilly line. “The tube was all the humans!” </p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Oh, never mind!”</p>
<p>Crowley couldn’t help but feel frustrated. He’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, or more like the wrong bed entirely. He had found himself alone in his cold, empty flat for the first time in months, having retreated there last night after an embarrassing incident when he drunkenly spilt wine on one of Aziraphale’s favourite Wildes. He couldn’t blame Aziraphale for the way he reacted. He didn’t seem angry, just sad, the memory of someone he loved (whether as a friend or something more, Crowley didn’t know) having been tarnished. Crowley would feel the same way if Aziraphale carelessly ruined the sketch of the Mona Lisa he had hanging above his throne, or threw away that snippet of Jesus’s robe Crowley had in his drawer, thinking it was just a rag. He had to leave after that, though Aziraphale had forgiven him for it just before they left. But Crowley still felt on edge. Like at any minute, Aziraphale would bring it up again. Would punish Crowley for it.</p>
<p>Crowley’s heart began beating as fast as a hummingbirds, and fear flooded his brain. Crowley told himself he was just being silly, Aziraphale wouldn’t do that to Crowley, that Aziraphale wasn’t him. But he couldn’t stop himself, the terrifying possibilities flashing through his mind, every time he’d had a whip taken to his flesh, his wings, every time he’d felt the cold edge of a knife pressing into his skin, being beaten black and blue for a simple error, a mistake, or maybe just because Lucifer felt like it....</p>
<p>Except the real Aziraphale was still sitting quietly next to him, holding onto his hand, breathing sighs of relief as the incessant rattling of the train carriage seized at last, perfectly unaware of the turmoil his demon was going through next to him. <br/>And that’s how things should be, thought Crowley, slightly hysterically. He’d hate me if he knew.</p>
<p>He’d hate me if he knew how scared I am.</p>
<p>It wasn’t even as if there was any real reason to be scared Aziraphale was going to hurt him. So your previous… partner was a selfish asshole who hit and raped you. There’s no reason to think Aziraphale would be the same. In fact, he and Lucifer couldn’t be more different. Crowley was just being stupid. Everything was going to be fine. Hell’s scared of them, Heaven’s scared of them, they're on their own side, they're safe.</p>
<p>And Crowley knew just how awful Aziraphale would feel if he found out, he’d blame himself, think he did something wrong. Maybe he’d even leave Crowley. Leave him for good.</p>
<p>The very thought made the demon want to scream. So he kept it all inside.</p>
<p>Kept it inside, like he always did. Because he was useless, he was selfish.</p>
<p>He was nothing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They’d been on many picnics since the end.</p>
<p>They’d gone to their favourite locale, St James, first, and then slowly moved onto the other parks around London, from Hampstead Heath to Hyde Park, where they had a good laugh at the drivel being spouted by various deluded humans at speakers corner. Today's destination was Regents Park, where they hoped to take in the sights and smells of the Rose Garden.</p>
<p>Aziraphale felt a deep sense of satisfaction as he set up camp amongst the flowers, feeling the satisfaction of fulfilling a promise made long ago, 60 years ago, to be exact. The day when Aziraphale made a decision he, surprisingly, hadn’t come to regret. He should have known Crowley wouldn’t lie to him. </p>
<p>Aziraphale hated that he had rejected Crowley though. It didn’t matter that things were different back then, that going with him would likely have ended in disaster. The ache that he felt in his heart at pushing his love away, even though it was for his own safety, could not and would not be forgotten. Thinking of all the times he had left Crowley, told him that they weren’t even friends…</p>
<p>Maybe it was for the best that they didn’t go to St James today. Aziraphale already had the morbs, it wouldn’t do to fall even deeper into melancholy. </p>
<p>Crowley let out a soft smile as he watched Aziraphale unpack their picnic, heart filling with love as he watched Aziraphale beadily eyeing the delicacies he unpacked, ranging from pork pies (courtesy of Tesco's) to little chocolate tartlets.</p>
<p>Aziraphale noticed Crowley’s watching him, and let out a little laugh.</p>
<p>“I don’t suppose you’re reconsidering trying out the vol au vents?”</p>
<p>“Nah, I just enjoy the fact that you look like you’re about to murder those little chocolate crispies.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale chuckled, and began laying out the food. Savoury sandwiches and tooth-rottingly sweet pastries filled the space on the picnic blanket not occupied by the two celestial beings, and for a while, they sat in silence listening to the rustling of the wind. It was a cold wind, being January, but they hardly minded. It was a perk of being a celestial being, not having to bother about the heat, or lack thereof. It was how Aziraphale could stand wearing shirt sleeves in August, how Crowley could tolerate wearing a tank top in November. Aziraphale did let himself shiver a little bit, though, so that his demon would come running to his aid and quickly whisk a quilt over both their shoulders, and warm Aziraphale with the hellish heat of his corporation.</p>
<p>However, Crowley remained sitting there, eyes staring into space behind his glasses.</p>
<p>Aziraphale frowned. He wondered if it was about the incident last night. He suspected that he may have overreacted; it was just a silly book after all, even if it was written by someone he was close with. But Crowley was his best friend, his love; he shouldn’t have made Crowley feel bad about it, it was just a silly, drunken mistake.</p>
<p>Aziraphale reached down to pick up a pork pie and pressed it to Crowley’s lips, hopeful that it would rectify the situation. Crowley jolted a bit, and moved backwards.</p>
<p>“What are you doing?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s stomach plummeted. “I-I was just messing around. Don’t worry about it, dear.”</p>
<p>Crowley stared at Aziraphale for a second, before silently nodding and opening his mouth slightly. Aziraphale’s face brightened and he picked up the pastry, slipping it into Crowley’s waiting mouth. </p>
<p>Aziraphale blushed as Crowley used his dextrous tongue to bring the pie into his mouth, and watched eagerly as Crowley chewed, breaking past the pastry and biting into the meaty centre. Crowley nodded at Aziraphale, eventually swallowing with an audible gulp. “‘S alright.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale beamed. “Oh, I’m so glad, dear boy. Did you really like it?”<br/>Crowley shrugged. “It didn’t make me feel sick, which is something.”</p>
<p>“That’s wonderful, love! Would you maybe like to try the canapes?”</p>
<p>Crowley screwed up his nose. “You know I don’t like that fancy shit, angel.”</p>
<p>“Canapes aren’t fancy!”</p>
<p>“Yes they are! They’re french, they’re automatically fancy!”</p>
<p>“So, crepes are fancy then?”</p>
<p>“Most people would say so, yes.”</p>
<p>“That’s poppycock!”</p>
<p>“Ha! Poppycock! What the fuck does that even mean!”</p>
<p>“It means that crepes aren’t fancy!”</p>
<p>The angel and the demon continued bickering in the park, which remained mostly empty due to the weather, and eventually returned home. Aziraphale once again complained of the tube's noise, and then moaned about getting earwax on his fingers because of how far they’d been down his ears the whole journey.</p>
<p>“I mean, I don’t actually know what the use of earwax is, biologically. Surely these vile secretions just make it harder to hear?” Aziraphale whined, his voice echoing off the cracked tiles of the bookshop’s bathroom as he desperately washed his hands. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s meant to clean the ears, angel.” Crowley called, flopping down on the sofa and getting out his phone. “I don’t have a clue how it does that, though. I wasn’t part of the human design team.”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t really matter anyway.” Aziraphale emerged from the bathroom, drying off his hands with a fluffy towel. “And it’s not a very romantic subject, is it?” </p>
<p>Aziraphale placed the towel on the coffee table and plopped down in the small space on the sofa that wasn’t taken up by Crowley’s lanky body, and grinned at his friend. Crowley grinned back, and opened up his arms. Aziraphale happily lay down on him, relishing the feeling of the demons embrace.</p>
<p>“It’s been a lovely day, hasn’t it?” Aziraphale whispered, reaching up to stroke his companions face. Crowley tensed at the touch, then relaxed, and held Aziraphale even tighter, hugging the angel’s plump body close to his thin one. “It’s been the most gorgeous, brilliant, beautiful day, angel. And everyday is like that when I’m with you.”</p>
<p>“Oh, love.”</p>
<p>“Lover boy…” Crowley crooned softly, and then pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s. The angel's heart beat faster with excitement as he pressed his tongue into the waiting cavern of Crowley’s mouth, adoring the sensation of Crowley moving against him. Aziraphale could feel Crowley growing hard under him, and he couldn’t help but make an effort himself. </p>
<p>“I-Is this alright, angel?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Always is, dear boy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Crowley reached under him, using one hand to caress Aziraphale’s nipples through the fabric of his shirt and waistcoat, while the other cupped Aziraphale’s crotch.</p>
<p>“Have you got anything down here, angel?”</p>
<p>“A quim.” Aziraphale said breathlessly, hips involuntarily rutting downward as Crowley’s hand rubbed against his clit. “I can change it, we haven’t really done it this way before-”</p>
<p>“We’ve done it once or twice, I think we’ll be fine.” Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s hips with supernatural strength and slowly maneuvered him onto the couch, straddling Aziraphale’s hips and undoing his trousers. Aziraphale tugged off his top layers, moaning as Crowley sucked and bit at his neck, and he felt his pssy growing wetter by the second.</p>
<p>“Crowley.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The demon paused in his assault on Aziraphale’s neck. “Yes, angel?”</p>
<p>“Please.”</p>
<p>Crowley chuckled. “Please what, sweetheart?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale huffed. “You know what I want, foul fiend!”</p>
<p>“Do you really, really want it?” Crowley teased, slithering down Aziraphale’s body and making him groan when he pressed his tongue against his mound and scrubbed it across his clit.</p>
<p>“Crowley!”</p>
<p>“I’m right here.”<br/>Aziraphale groaned, a feeling of lightheadedness filling his entire body as Crowley’s unholy tongue flicked against that swollen little nub, steadfastly ignoring his twitching hole. “Why tease me like this, dear? S-Surely you want to fuck me?”</p>
<p>This time, it was Crowley’s turn to moan and roll his hips up against the sofa. Aziraphale smirked, knowing that him swearing did particularly good things for Crowley, especially when they were like this. “Don’t you think it will feel good, being so deep inside me? Feeling me around you as you fuck into me?”</p>
<p>Crowley growled and abandoned his efforts, moving up and silencing Aziraphale with his mouth. The angel could taste his own slick on Crowley’s tongue, and his hardness against Aziraphale’s leg. Aziraphale whimpered as Crowley miracled his clothes off and they were suddenly skin to skin, and let out a little scream as Crowley pushed himself inside Aziraphale’s wet heat.</p>
<p>“F-Fuck, Angel!”</p>
<p>“O-Oh my, Crowley! Oh, you’re so good!”</p>
<p>For a moment, the angel and the demon lay there, panting together and trying to gather the strength to continue.</p>
<p>“Oh, m-move, please!”</p>
<p>Crowley smiled and gave a long lick to Aziraphale’s neck, before he almost entirely pulled out, and slammed back in. The two both swore, and Crowley set a steady rhythm, angling himself to press against that one spot inside Aziraphale that he knew would feel better than anything else.</p>
<p>“A-Ah, Crowley! Oh, please!”</p>
<p>The demon gave a little grin, and began moving faster, brain flooded with the pleasure sent screaming up his cock as it rubbed against the tightness of Aziraphale’s walls. He could tell Aziraphale was close by the way he periodically twitched around him, his whimpers and moans becoming higher in volume and more frequent. Crowley was barely holding back from cumming himself, so he reached forward and rubbed against Aziraphale’s clit, snickering at the involuntary kicks of Aziraphale’s legs as he hurtled towards the edge.</p>
<p>“That’s it, Aziraphale.” Crowley whispered, giving a little bite to the writhing angel’s neck. “Cum for me, my love. I know you want to.”</p>
<p>WIth a cry, Aziraphale tensed up and came in a gush of fluid, walls flexing around Crowley’s length. The demon moaned and gave a few more, final thrusts, burying himself deep inside and spilling inside Aziraphale.</p>
<p>The demon and angel both panted through the aftershocks, collapsed onto each other, before Crowley slowly pulled out. Aziraphale whined at the loss, and Crowley laughed softly. </p>
<p>“Spoiled thing.” He whispered, once again moving down Aziraphale’s body. “Want to make you cum again.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aziraphale whimpered as Crowley dove into his quim, burying his tongue inside and lapping up their spend. Aziraphale rolled his hips against Crowley’s face, exhausted and overstimulated, but still seeking pleasure. Crowley steadfastly avoided his clit, scared of it all being too much for the angel post-orgasm, but Aziraphale obviously disagreed.</p>
<p>“Crowley…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The demon made a noise of pleasure as he tasted Aziraphale’s divine slick, then pressed his forked tongue against Aziraphale’s G-Spot. </p>
<p>Aziraphale cried out and grabbed Crowley’s hair, trying to get the demon to go deeper inside. However, he immediately noticed his lover had stopped moving.</p>
<p>“Crowley?” Aziraphale whispered, quickly letting go of the demon's hair and scrambling back when he heard a little noise coming from Crowley. An unmistakable noise of fear. “Crowley!”</p>
<p>When Aziraphale laid eyes on the demon, he was shocked by what he’d found. Crowley, who just a minute ago had been superbly fucking the life out of him, was hunched up as small as possible on the other end of the couch, breaths quick and panicked.</p>
<p>“Crowley, are you alright?” </p>
<p>Aziraphale didn’t know the point in asking; Crowley obviously wasn’t alright. His eyes were wide, whites barely showing as his iris had expanded with terror, and his skin was pale, still covered in a sheen of sweat. Aziraphale let out a little sob, realising what he had done.</p>
<p>“Crowley!”</p>
<p>Aziraphale reached for his love, his dearest, his everything, with cautious, careful hands. Something horrible deep within had obviously been wrenched to the surface by Aziraphale’s acts, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt Crowley even more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Hands. Pulling. Tugging. It hurt. It hurt Crawly so much, the sensitive skin on their scalp being practically ripped off by the demon above them. Sounds. Laughter. Terror. Begging. Was it them? Was it their assailants? They didn’t know, all they knew was that they needed to get away now.<br/>So they called for help. They called and they called, called out Lucifer’s name, begged him to come and save them, begged him, to swat these awful monsters away with a flick of his hand and gather Crawly into his arms, apologise and kiss them and make love to them, sweetly, carefully, erase all memories of those demons from their body, to tell them they were safe.</p>
<p>Eventually, he found himself calling out other names. Gabriel. Michael. Uriel. Aziraphale. Someone, anyone, please. He found himself calling for someone else too, Her name feeling like acid on their tongue, their desperation manifesting itself in blasphemy, for surely it was blasphemy of the highest order for something so awful, so reprehensible and damned to speak a word so divine, so holy, so good.</p>
<p>But nobody came. Nobody came to rescue Crawly, and they were helpless and it hurt and then it was over. </p>
<p>They were left laying there on the ground, their fluids leaking from Crawly’s body, sore and abused and left. They were no longer useful to them. To anyone. Everyone they loved had abandoned them, even the one person they always thought would stay, even if the thought sometimes terrified them, made them want to fade into nothingness.</p>
<p>And then he was there, looming over them, illuminated by burning fire, a shining beacon of brilliance in the darkness of Hell. They automatically reached their arms out, whispering quietly, sobbing and screaming the pain and suffering they had endured.</p>
<p>Lucifer listened, head cocked, face a mask of indifference, and grinned.</p>
<p>“That’s what you get for forsaking me, darling.”</p>
<p>“Wh-”</p>
<p>“It’s for your own good.” He whispered, features once again dull and lifeless. Like a corpse. “I love you, my Morningstar.”</p>
<p>“Wh- No!”</p>
<p>Lucifer smiled again, and turned away.</p>
<p>“No! No! Don’t leave me here!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Crawly took a deep shuddering breath, the sound of Lucifer’s footsteps echoing in their ears even over the din of screaming and moaning coming from the damned souls around them. </p>
<p>“PLEASE DON’T LEAVE! NO! PLEASE, MY LORD, DON’T!”</p>
<p>But he was already gone, the Lightbringer embraced by the darkness.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Crowley had panicked.</p>
<p>He could realise that now his head was cleared, memories from a past fraught with terror and sadness and trauma retreating into one of the (many) heavily locked boxes where they belonged.</p>
<p>And now he was staring at himself in the mirror, wondering what the fuck he was supposed to do.</p>
<p>He was usually so good at hiding the worst parts of himself. He had become an expert at suppressing his fears, keeping them hidden from the view of Crowley’s unforgiving world. A world where any weakness is punished, where you have to learn to be strong.</p>
<p>But Aziraphale. He had always been an anchor, the literal guardian angel who had helped him survive the toughest of times, even without knowing it. Aziraphale was his safety, the one person who hadn’t seen him be paraded around like a puppet, who he knew would not try to debase or harm him. He trusted Aziraphale. </p>
<p>But what if that faith was misplaced?</p>
<p>What if he never looked at Crowley the same way again? What if seeing Crowley hurt was too much for him to bear, and he decided to leave? What if he was disgusted by Crowley, and, like so many others, saw his violation as a mark staining his soul? What if he decided one more rape wouldn’t hurt, after all, he had endured so many. Why should he really care about the feelings of something so awful and disgusting, a creature who was such a slut that his fellows decided they had to do something about it?</p>
<p>That’s what they said to me, when I begged them to stop. ‘You’re a slut anyway.’ ‘You’re damaged goods.’ ‘It doesn’t matter what you think’</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It doesn’t matter. You don’t matter.</p>
<p>Crowley knew Aziraphale wasn’t like them. He was an angel, his angel, who would guide him through the dark. But he’d been lied to before. What if none of it was real? What if Aziraphale was really just like Lucifer, someone who only wanted to make Crowley his, and his alone? Who didn’t care about what he felt, what he wanted.</p>
<p>A puppet. Just a puppet, to be used for someone else’s pleasure. All those names, all those memories that he can never escape. The last thing he needed was more. He would crack under the weight of all those moments. His soul would shatter in two if he lost his angel.</p>
<p>So he would keep it all inside. Pretend, like he always did. Carry his sins on his shoulders, burdened by the knowledge it was all his fault. If he’d just been good enough…</p>
<p>Good enough for Her. For him. For Aziraphale.</p>
<p>He had to be good for Aziraphale.</p>
<p>He wouldn’t ask for help. He’d contain it within himself, like he always did.</p>
<p>He was once something bright and beautiful, shining against the darkness. And now, he was nothing.</p>
<p>And nothing was what he deserved to be.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aziraphale sat at the edge of their bed, blue eyes trained on the bathroom door. There was no sound coming from inside. No crying. No screaming.</p>
<p>Just silence. Pure, deathly silence.</p>
<p>Crowley had fled in there, when Aziraphale touched him. Crowley had looked at him with wild eyes, face still covered in Aziraphale’s emissions, and ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.</p>
<p>At first, there was the soft sound of Crowley sobbing. He took sharp gulps of breath every few seconds, obviously struggling for it through his tears. And that went on for what felt like years, years as Aziraphale sat there, still stark naked, wondering what the fuck he was going to do.</p>
<p>He hadn’t meant too. He thought they were having fun. He thought Crowley was delighted in their games, enraptured with pleasure just like Aziraphale was at the time.</p>
<p>But he was wrong. He had done something stupid. He had gone too far.</p>
<p>And now Crowley was gone. Not moving, or crying, or screaming inside Aziraphale’s poky en-suite, most of the space inside taken up by a huge bathtub, where they had once shared strawberries and champagne under the cover of the stars, talking about life and love and saying all the things they had longed to say for 6000 years, in the span of just one glorious night. </p>
<p>They made love after that. It was their first time together, and Aziraphale’s first time with anyone.</p>
<p>And now they were here. And Aziraphale didn’t know if anything would ever be the same again.</p>
<p>What if Crowley leaves me? What if he’s already left? He could have miracled himself out, what if he’s already gone?</p>
<p>I wouldn’t blame him.</p>
<p>But then there was a near miraculous creaking of doors, and a completely composed demon strolled out nonchalantly.</p>
<p>“Crowley, oh my God,” Aziraphale cried, running up to Crowley, who was still completely nude apart from his sunglasses. “Are you alright, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have, I’m so-”</p>
<p>“Shhhhh, Aziraphale.” Crowley embraced the sobbing angel in his arms. Even though I have to hold back tears myself. “It’s fine. I’m fine, love, we’re fine.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But-but, you were, I-”</p>
<p>“I’m fine. I just got a… a bit of a fright. Sensitive hair, y’know?” Crowley laughed, his voice a little too high, still filled with the promise of tears.</p>
<p>“But-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t worry about it, really,” Crowley said, kissing Aziraphale’s tear-stained cheek. “It was just a little mistake.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aziraphale nodded silently, scared that if he spoke, he would burst into tears again. Crowley frowned.</p>
<p>“I really am alright, angel. Please don’t worry.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale bowed his head. “H-How am I supposed to stop? I mean, you obviously weren’t okay, a-and I’m sorry I did that to you.”</p>
<p>“Aziraphale, you didn’t do anything to me.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“But I did!” The angel insisted, tears once again flowing unbidden from his bright blue eyes. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that, I shouldn’t have-”</p>
<p>“Angel, you just got carried away; that's all.”</p>
<p>“But I should have been more careful. I-I love you, Crowley, and I don’t want to lose you because of my own stupidity. Not again.”</p>
<p>Crowley gave a soft smile. “You never lost me, angel. I’ve always been right here, and I always will be.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale, overcome with emotion, buried his face in the other's chest. “‘S not fair.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale tentatively lifted his head. “I should be the one comforting you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t need comforting. I don’t. I promise”</p>
<p>Aziraphale sighed, and nodded his head. “If you insist, dear. But… I would like to. If not for your sake, then for mine?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Crowley sighed dramatically, and flopped down on the bed, miracling his black satin pyjamas on himself. “Alright.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Aziraphale wiggled happily, and lay down beside his love, also miraculously putting on some sleepwear, a pair of blue cotton pyjamas the exact same color as his eyes with a pattern of white ducklings. Crowley had got them for him before the failed apocalypse as a joke, but Aziraphale hadn’t stopped wearing them since.</p>
<p>The two curled up together, the angel hugging his companion close beside him. Normally, he would be running his fingers along Crowley’s scalp, but he was apprehensive now. Instead, he pulled the demon closer, cradling Crowley against his soft stomach, carefully listening to the sound of Crowley’s heartbeat.</p>
<p>“Are you alright, dear boy?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It took a while for Aziraphale to get a muffled response. “‘M fine, angel, I told you. Just wanna sleep.</p>
<p>“Okay, dearest. I’ll be here.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Crowley looked up at his angel, glasses still covering his amber eyes. </p>
<p>“Aren’t those uncomfortable while sleeping, dear?”</p>
<p>“They’re fine,” Crowley lied, gripping on tighter to the angel’s softness. “Will you sleep with me?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale hesitated. “I’ll try.”</p>
<p>A pause. “Alright.”</p>
<p>With that, Crowley settled down to sleep. Except Aziraphale could see that tension was still rife in his bony frame, could sense the movement of his eyes beneath his glasses, searching for danger perhaps?</p>
<p>It beggared the question: What dark place did Crowley’s reaction come from? Why was he so fearful, so determined to push Aziraphale away? What terror lay within his heart? Was it something Aziraphale could soothe, a metaphorical (or literal) demon that Aziraphale could help Crowley put to rest?</p>
<p>But they couldn’t talk right now. Aziraphale knew that wouldn’t help at all. But Aziraphale was determined to help his love, to make him feel safe and loved and happy. Aziraphale would do anything.</p>
<p>“Go to sleep, now,” Aziraphale whispered, making a quick hand gesture to aid the miracle. “And dream of whatever you like best.”</p>
<p>But Aziraphale knew in his heart that it would take more than miracles for Crowley to rest peacefully.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Crowley has always hated having to ask for things.</p>
<p>The world he lived in was not a kind one, especially not to someone like him. </p>
<p>He would always be haunted by memories of his past, and no spell or miracle could cleanse him of his trauma, no matter what.</p>
<p>He knew in his heart that he was useless. That he was nothing. A pretender, who put on a facade of someone cool, confident. A facade of someone he wanted to be.</p>
<p>He didn’t deserve anything he had. He deserved Lucifer. Lucifer and his whips and chains, his sweet words and broken promises.</p>
<p>But he had an angel, an angel who he had wanted more than anything else in the world, an angel that he now had. An angel who was willing to help.</p>
<p>Crowley just had to let him in first. The real Crowley, a cowardly, shrivelled, traumatised, lovable being, needed to let in that spark of hope, and let it illuminate the dark.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I promise the next one won't have smut. Maybe. please comment and kudos if you enjoyed, it grants my chemical deprived brain serotonin</p></blockquote></div></div>
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